Rhythm of Night
by Nakimochiku
Summary: by coincidence, Ichigo meets his ex-lover on a stormy night. Hichi x Ichi, AU, Oneshot, fluff.


Rhythm of Night

the soft trickle of water soon turned into a down pour, forcing Ichigo to stuff his important documents (manga manuscripts) under his thin shirt and run for some kind of shelter.

Today was not a good day. Not only had his editor given him hell about his manuscripts, but his brain was blank. He had no idea where to take the next volume. He hated being unable to write. And now, to add to his uninspired mood, it was raining on him. He heaved a sigh and ran faster tho get home. Maybe this kind of depression would bring back his desire to write ten times stronger. Or so he could hope.

He heard footsteps coming up fast behind him, and suddenly a jacket was over his head and a warm arm around his slightly chilled shoulders. The jacket was warm, and he snuggled into it. The scent was gentle and familiar... but, it couldn't be...

He looked up, about to yell something at the pervert. But stopped, his mouth still open. Shiro stood there, grinning down at him. Of all the ways to meet the bloody cockroach, it was like this, when he was at his lowest. He wanted to stab Shiro in the chest, never mind see him...kiss him, love him... hope he'd apologize. He'd thought he was over it, over him, because he hated acting like some hung up girl. He hated acting stupid. And most of all...

He hated still loving Shiro and just about everything about him.

Ichigo tried to put on, what he hoped was, a menacing scowl. But Shiro only giggled at him. Why was this bastard of all bastard impervious to his glare? He didn't speak, but wrapped the jacket tighter around his shoulders, as if it were some form of protection from Shiro's burning gold eyes.

"Hey there, Ichi." Shiro said simply. Ichigo growled. You finally see me after 3 months and that's all you have to say to me?! But Shiro giggled, as though hearing his thoughts. "Still as cute as ever, I see."

"Cute..." Ichigo repeated dumbly. Shiro rang his fingers through his half covered hair, over his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, down his neck. "Stop." he hissed, eyes flashed with anger. How dare Shiro touch him as if they were still lovers, expect him to fall into his arms and forgive him? He still hurt! He'd forgotten about it, for a little while. But now, all those old scars were bing pulled up. And he hurt.

Shiro smirked as though he were talking nonsense, as though he were a little immature child, as though he was a toy to be played with. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee? We should get out of this rain." before he could fight the cause of his sorrow off, a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders again, refusing to let him run and try to forget again.

Ichigo sighed, as he pushed open the door, grabbing a seat near the door. He forced himself to look away from Shiro, instead watching as cars passed and droplets rolled down the glass of the window lazily. A café au lait was placed in front of him. His favourite. He tried to crush the warm feeling in his throat that Shiro actually remembered.

"How have you been?" Ichigo ventured after a minute of quietly sipping their coffee. He had summoned all his courage to ask that question. And he dreaded yet wanted to hear that there was someone else in Shiro's life to completely kill the hope that maybe Shiro had come to see him, would beg to have him back. He hated thinking like that. When had he ever been so weak to the man sitting obliviously across from him.

Shiro shrugged, smiling. "Been researching mostly. For that novel I told you about before. I'll be heading to greece in a year to wrap everything up." Ichigo nodded, and tried to immerse himself in the idol chatter. He didn't seem to notice Shiro's jacket still hanging from his shoulders. This was just something between friends. Old friends. Nothing more. No deeper meaning. Shiro just happened to see him on the street. Just five more minutes. He finished off the rest of his café au lait and stood up.

"I better get going." he said vaguely. He picked up his manuscripts and smiled softly over his shoulder. "Thanks." he tried not to make it seem as if he was despreate. He had pride. But he wanted to get away, curl up with his cat, Six, and forget all about today.

Today was definitely not a good day.

He almost heard Shiro call for him to wait, and walked faster, not waiting. He wanted to escape. He was almost at his house before Shiro caught up. He felt humiliated. The albino grabbed him by the arms, hard enough to bruise. "Let go!" he ordered, wrenching out of the tight grasp. But Shiro grabbed him again, wrapping his arms around his waist. He growled, trying to get free.

"I'm not letting you go." there was a smirk in Shiro's voice. And it pissed him off. How dare he? How _dare_ he?!

"Who _the fuck_ do you think you are?! You think you can just hurt me, come back, say whatever you want and I'll jump back into your arms?" he tried to ignore the rough fingers exploring under his shirt. "You ran off with some fucking bitch as if I wasn't enough, and you expect me to forgive you?"

"You still love me." Shiro whispered simply in his ear, licking and nipping the shell. He shivered as he felt Shiro's hot breath. Ichigo didn't try to deny it, because he was horrible at lying, especially to Shiro.

"I don't care. I don't want you back." he hissed as Shiro's painted black finger nails harshly pinched a nipple. What was the perverted bastard doing in public? Shiro turned him, and pressed their lips together, held him closer. The sky split open just that moment, and a torrent of rain fell on them, soaking through their clothes and plastering their hair to their heads.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Ichi." Shiro whispered, pressing their foreheads together. Ichigo sighed. He had to stay strong. And for anyone else, he'd never bend over backward. But he'd always been weak towards the albino. "Ichi." they kissed again.

"I won't forget." Ichigo finally mumbled. "And if you do it again, you're not coming back ever." Shiro smiled, pressing his lips to Ichigo's forehead.

"'course not."

XxXxX

Ichigo gingerly raised himself out of his plush bed, smoothing frosty locks of hair out of Shiro's face affectionately. He pulled on Shiro's shirt and wandered down the hall to his study. He pulled out a pad of paper and his favorite writing pencil, the one with little hippos on it.

And began to write.

OWARI

_moo. Review please!_ _Don't ask about the title._


End file.
